


hurt, but okay

by balimaria



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Burning, But Can Be Taken Platonically, Complete, Dissociation, Drowning, Everyone Gets Little A Trauma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Poisoning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Slight Ravio/Legend, Specific CWs In Chapter Notes, Torture, Whump, as a treat, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24445975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balimaria/pseuds/balimaria
Summary: A ten-day whump challenge feat. each one of the Links from LU, plus a bonus appearance from Ravio. New chapters daily!
Comments: 24
Kudos: 344





	1. Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 1: Pinned down
> 
> CW: Blood, broken bones, burning, suffocation.

Wind watched nervously as the herd of mechanical monsters trekked across the field. Their clunking, grinding, _twisting_ bodies shuddered and moved in ways nothing natural ever could. There were only about four of them, but the painful black glow pouring out of the chinks in their armor made them look more terrifying than ten. 

Wind glanced over his shoulder at the other Links. They were watching the guardians as well, eyes just as nervous as Wind felt.

“Alright everyone,” Wild piped up, a fake confidence coating his voice. “We’ve gotta kill those things before they can hurt anyone else. They look infected, so we’ll have to be extra careful. Don’t do anything risky, okay? Now, come over here. I’ll show you the best way to dismantle a guardian…”

Wind listened in with the others as Wild described the technique. It wasn’t complicated, but he was beginning to grow uncomfortable with how much he was talking about their lasers.

If Wind was honest with himself, he was terrified. He didn’t want to be anywhere near those things. But there was no other option. Who knew how many townsfolk could be hurt or killed by them?

Much too soon, it was time. Wild led the group into a thicket of trees where they could get close to the guardians without being spotted. Wind followed, lagging behind more than he’d like to admit. Anxiety coiled in his stomach, restricting his breathing to the point where he felt like he was going to pass out.

Apparently he didn’t do a good enough job at hiding it, though. Legend slowed until they were walking side by side, a worried look in the curve of his mouth.

“Hey kid. You good?”

Wind didn’t have the will to tell off Legend for calling him a kid. So he just shook his head. Legend gave him a friendly push on the shoulder. 

“Don’t you worry,” he said. “This’ll be over before you know it. And we’ve got plenty of supplies, so don't you go freaking out if someone gets hurt, yeah?”

Wind said nothing, mouth pressed into a thin line. He didn’t feel very reassured at all.

“Alright everyone,” Wild whispered. “Weapons ready?”

They nodded.

“On my signal, then. Three…”

Wind breathed deep, pushing down any feeling. 

“Two…”

He adjusted the grip of his sword. It felt too heavy and too light.

“One…”

Hurriedly, he brushed his hand across his trousers. He’d be no good if he dropped his only defense.

“NOW!”

They charged out of the trees, weapons at the ready. The heads of the guardians swiveled, eyes flashing a deep red as targeting lasers picked out their victims. Wind felt a guilty sense of relief that none were directed at him.

He leaped, carving his sword into the leg of a guardian. It cut clean through. A thick black oil began to drip from the severed wires, flashing rainbow in the bright sun. Wind laughed a little, surprised at how easy it had been.

He didn’t laugh for much longer, though, as something struck him _hard_ from behind. The breath was knocked out of him, and he went flying forwards. Wind slammed into the ground, groaning as his vision spun. The cries of his friends and the explosions from the guardian’s lasers beat in and out in time to his heart. Something clutched fiercely at the back of his head, fiery heat emanating from the sharp metal. Wind would’ve screamed, but his face was pressed too hard into the earth. 

The smell of burning hair assaulted his nose.

Suddenly, his head was pulled back sharply. Wind cried at the feeling of his hairs ripping from his scalp. The guardian flipped him, pressing a leg against each of his arms. The heat was blindingly painful, white hot needles of agony slicing through each point of contact. Another two legs held down his thighs, and between his screams he coughed violently as smoke filled his mouth. 

A final leg pushed against his chest. Through the blur of his tears he saw the guardian staring at him, a horrible emptiness permeating its eye. It leaned forward, putting more and more weight onto Wind’s body. He sucked in breath after breath after breath. It hurt hurt _hurt_ and his lungs were getting tighter and tighter and _please make it stop-_

Something snapped deep in his chest. But the guardian didn’t stop its assault. It crushed harder and harder until Wind could feel the tips of his broken ribs puncture his skin.

The pain from his burning flesh was nothing compared to the agony of the sharp sabers of bone tearing from his skin. Wind watched through a haze of utter terror as red slowly soaked his tunic.

He was barely conscious when the weight finally lifted. The guardian above him shuddered to a halt, a yellow-tipped arrow sending electricity bolting through its eye. It collapsed, the black glow evaporating in seconds. 

Someone was calling his name. Someone was shaking him. Someone was crying (he was crying…?)

He coughed up a lungful of smoke, the movement wracking his body with pain. The patch of blood grew.

Bandages were being wrapped around his arms and legs. Cold, healing potion dribbled into his mouth.

Wind closed his eyes, his consciousness finally, blissfully slipping away.

***

He awoke slowly. The sun was too bright and the bed too warm and he’d really rather just go back to sleep. But apparently that wasn’t an option, as the voices of the other Links slowly cajoled him into wakefulness. 

He groaned heavily as his eyelids slipped open. He was sore all over, and in a moment of panic he slapped a hand to his chest-

There was nothing there. No ribs carving through his flesh. No pain from severed nerves and burning flesh. No puddle of blood slowly pouring out his life.

Someone places a cold washcloth on his forehead. Wind sighed in contentment. He felt… good?

He tried not to think too much about the fight with the guardians. Just the thought made his teeth grind and his toes curl.

“It’s okay, Wind,” someone (Warriors?) said. “Rest as long as you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

Wind closed his eyes again, a smile small alighting his face at the relief of it. He fell back asleep, dreams thankfully absent.


	2. Hyrule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had to keep moving. He couldn't let a simple fracture get them killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: Hidden injury
> 
> CW: Broken bones, blood.

Hyrule sucked a breath in through gritted teeth. He was down on his knees, sopping mud coating his legs in a slimy sheet. He clutched at his collarbone, fingernails subconsciously digging into his flesh. Blood dripped from the small, jagged hole, his palm doing nothing to stop it from flowing out of him. For the third time, he tried to summon a spark of magic. But nothing came.

He was dead empty.

Hyrule attempted to move his other arm, but a hot agony flared each time he so much as twitched it. The logical side of his brain knew that his collarbone was broken, fractured by the spiked mace of a Moblin. But he didn’t want to do so much as even acknowledge it. 

His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, a staticky buzz muffling the grunts and cries of the other Links. Hyrule coughed, choking up a goblet of phlegm. The cold mud seeping around his knees was a welcome distraction from the pulsating pain of his injury.

Something grabbed his arm, and white hot agony bolted through Hyrule’s nerves. His collarbone creaked and popped ominously. 

Another Moblin was holding him up by his wrist. Hyrule only coughed weakly. There was nothing he could do. No magic. His sword was lying abandoned in the mud. No one was here to help him.

The Moblin shook him violently, sending throbbing pains through his arm and neck. Another excruciating pop sounded from his neck. He wished it would just be over already.

Abruptly, there was a wet squelching noise. A sword tip was poking from the unsuspecting Moblin’s gut, dripping a thick black liquid. It toppled over, dropping Hyrule back into the mud. The sodden earth splashed into his eye, and instinctively he moved his hand to rub it out. He cried out at the movement, curling inwards as the pain pulsed back and forth in waves. He felt himself beginning to fall into unconsciousness, and a bitter sort of relief coursed through him.

But it didn’t come.

Black ate away at his vision and his heart was fluttering so fast he was afraid it might beat out his chest. But sleep didn’t come. He was trapped in some sort of miserable inbetween that only served to worsen his agony.

Legend was calling his name. The pink-haired hero’s voice sliced through Hyrule’s ear drums, much too loud and yet too distorted to hear. Hands were wrapping around him, hefting him up. Hyrule’s head ached at the sudden movement, adding to his veritable symphony of pain. Along with that, his mind seemed dead-set on hyperfocusing on the way his blood felt as it trickled, thick and wet, from his puncture wound. He heard it in agonizing detail as it _plip-plip-pliped_ onto the sodden earth.

_Don’t… bleed… can’t… Ganon-_

Legend stumbled, and finally- mercifully- the pain that jolted through his arm was enough to pull him into unconsciousness.

***

The pain was still there when Hyrule awoke, though it was dulled by the pressure of the bandages. They were wrapped awkwardly around his neck and under his armpit in order to cover the hole in his collarbone. 

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Wild said. Hyrule’s eyelids fluttered until the other hero came into focus. Wild was smiling patiently, waiting for him to catch his bearings.

“Quite a nasty injury you managed to get. I sanitized it and stitched you up while you were asleep. Take your time getting ready, and do tell me if anything else needs my attention, okay?”

Hyrule nodded. He was still in quite a bit of pain, but at this point it was more of an ache then anything.

Wild stood and walked off, presumably to prepare their next meal. So Hyrule began so sit, propping himself up with his arms-

Something grinded ominously inside of him, sending a flare of searing pain through his arm. He collapsed, muffling his groans as best as he could.

His collarbone. Of course. In the mess of getting his wound treated Wild must’ve missed it. Hyrule grit his teeth at his own misfortune. Wild had used their bandages, thread, and alcohol to care for him. That was too much of their very limited supplies down the drain. And not only that- they needed to keep moving. They couldn’t be bogged down by a simple fracture. There was no time to craft him a sling. More monsters could be on their tail any second.

So, at that moment, Hyrule made a decision. Until he could find a way to replenish his magic and heal himself, he would keep the fracture a secret. He could last a couple days until the next town, surely. 

***

Hyrule couldn’t bear another second of this.

Every step he took shot bolts of pain through his arm. Worst of all, he could barely use it. And the others were beginning to get suspicious.

He asked Legend when they’d arrive at the next settlement- this being his Hyrule. The blond hero looked at him through narrowed eyes.

“You’ve been asking that a lot, lately,” he said. “Is there something up?”

“Oh, no,” Hyrule replied, maybe a bit too quickly. “I’m fine! Just tired, that’s all.”

Legend snickered. “Since when did you get tired from walking? Thought you were some kind of explorer, ‘Rule.”

Hyrule smiled half-heartedly. “Guess I’m losing my touch,” he joked, trying to inject some humor into his voice.

Legend scoffed, a smirk still on his face. “I sincerely doubt that.”

Hyrule backed away as quickly as he could without seeming suspicious. 

_Just try to stay out of sight. You’re fine. It’s just a little pain. Nothing you haven’t handled before._

***

It seemed like centuries until Hyrule finally spotted the dim lights of a village in the distance. Relief poured through him. _Finally_ this could be over, and no one had to be the wiser.

Hyrule was first through the gates when they finally arrived at the settlement. The others followed at a more leisurely pace, and Hyrule mentally cursed them for putting him through another minute of agony. It wasn’t their fault, he knew. But still.

“Alright,” Time said. “Lets split up. Twilight, Wild, and Four can go look for an inn. H-”

“Hyrule and I can get supplies. Right, Hyrule?”

Hyrule jumped. Legend was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“O-of course. Yes.”

They both separated from the group, heading towards the back of the village. Legend was silent. 

Eventually, they came upon a small lodging with a potion sign hanging above its door. Hyrule tried not to look too relieved. He wasn’t out of the woods yet.

They entered. The lighting was dim at best, and a strange sort of bittersweet smell enveloped them as they stepped towards the counter.

“Nine red potions, please,” Legend requested. The witch dipped behind the counter, pulling out nine viles. 

“270 rupees, please.”

This was his chance.

“Uhm, could I get a green potion with that, please…?”

The witch grunted, grabbing a thinner, taller bottle. 

“15 extra, then.”

Legend pulled out his rupee bag, giving Hyrule a look.

“You low on magic, ‘Rule?” he said.

Hyrule nodded, trying to give it a more casual air. His arm throbbed violently as he took hold of the potion. 

Once Legend had paid, they returned to the fresh air of the village streets. Hyrule drank the potion greedily, though he knew he couldn’t cast the healing spell with Legend still around. But it was a step in the right direction.

Twilight, Wild, and Four had located an inn for them to stay at. It was a bit cheap, but much better than sleeping in the woods. Hyrule put down his bags, trying his best not to jostle his fracture. He’d have to find the soonest possible moment to heal it.

He got his chance about an hour later, when Legend left to see if he could find some food. Hurridley, Hyrule hid in the small space between where the bed met the wall. His hand glowed with healing magic, almost in anticipation. Hyrule pressed it to his collar, hissing at the relief of the fracture finally sealing over. The pain subsided. He moved his arm experimentally. There was no pain. 

He sighed deeply in relief. Thank Hylia that was over with.

The door slammed open with a crash. Hyrule jumped to his feet, raising a hand to his shoulder where his sword would’ve been.

“I knew it!” Legend accused. “You _were_ hurt! No- don’t even try to deny it. I saw everything.”

Hyrule bit his lip. This was the part that wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Hyrule, what the hell were you thinking, hiding an injury like that?”

Hyrule said nothing. Legend bared his teeth in a snarl. “What if we had gotten into a fight? You could’ve been killed!”

“I know, I just-”

“You just what, Hyrule? What makes you think that, out of everyone, you’re the one who doesn’t deserve care?”

“I don’t think that I-”

“Then why? Why hide it?”

Hyrule gaped, trying and failing to find something to say. Legend’s aggression faded. 

“Hyrule, just… please don’t ever do that again, okay? I don’t want you to die.”

It was a rare moment of emotional honesty for Legend. The other hero’s eyes were downcast, and he was fidgeting slightly with the hem of his tunic.

“Okay,” Hyrule murmured. “I won’t do it again.”

Legend smiled wearily.

“Good. Now… It’s getting late. Let’s get to bed.”


	3. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was trapped. He would die here. He was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Loss of voice
> 
> CW: Animal cruelty, blood, panic attacks.

Four had never been great with a bow. That wasn’t to say he was hopeless with one, he just lacked the finesse that other members of their group had. He could aim for a target and hit it, and that was enough for him. Which is how he ended up going hunting in the place of Twilight, Wild, and Sky- all much better archers than him, but all incapacitated by a bug that had managed to strike nearly every one of their group. 

So here Four was, bow in hand, in the middle of the forest, trying his hardest to track down the most stubborn rabbit he’d ever encountered. It was incredibly humid, and he was beginning to get a little bit… _discouraged._

Four creeped, step by step, towards his prey. He finally had it where he wanted it. There was nothing that could keep them from a hearty meal now.

The rabbit hopped towards a thicket of tall grass, sniffing the earth for food. That was fine. Four nocked an arrow, drawing back the bowstring until it was taught against his cheek. 

_Steady…_

The rabbit shrieked, but Four hadn’t released his arrow. He frowned, lowering the bow and slipping his arrow back into the quiver on his back. Cautiously, he made his way towards the frantic rabbit. It was struggling violently, screeching again and again. As Four approached, he saw the silver teeth biting into the rabbit’s leg. A bear trap. He grimaced. 

_How cruel._

Four wanted to release the poor creature, to rip apart the metal jaws that had nearly severed its leg. But he knew it was too late now. The rabbit would die with or without his help. Best to put it out of its misery.

Four slipped a dagger from his belt. Kneeling down, he held the rabbit’s body still with his hand. With one simple motion, he slit its throat. The struggling body fell still.

He felt guilt rise in his throat, and then anger. This was the fault of whatever horrible person had set the trap. Four had some questioning to do. 

Sighing, he pulled apart the jaws of the trap. Best not to waste a meal.

Four made his way back towards the camp, getting himself caught in an obtuse amount of burrs. So now he was itchy, hot, incredibly sweaty, and more than a little angry. Great.

He just wanted to get back.

But fate always had it out for heroes, didn’t it?

Another step and a blinding agony shot through Four’s ankle. He fell with a cry, the corpse of the rabbit rolling into the bushes. He was rendered immobile by the fiery pain of it for a good five minutes.

Finally, he managed to pry his eyes open to assess the damage. 

It was another trap, this one nearly rusted through. Gritty metal fangs dug into his ankle, carving deeper and deeper each time he tried to struggle free. In a moment of awareness through the pain, Four realized he was hyperventilating. Snapping his mouth shut, he tried to breathe calmly. Then, through a blur of tears, Four wrapped his hands around the trap’s maw. The teeth were dull enough that he could safely grip it without cutting his hands. It was a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless.

Four tugged with all his strength. With a horrid squeal and a shower of loose rust, the trap began to pull apart. Four’s arms were straining with the exertion of pulling from such an awkward angle, but he couldn’t stop. He _couldn’t-_

His hands, slick with a layer of sweat, slipped off the hot metal of the trap. It snapped shut, carving new wounds through his ankle. Four screamed as he felt the metal scrape against bone. Pain bolted through him like electricity, worse than ever before. This was nothing to sword wounds or arrow punctures. This was _torture._

Four watched his tears water the grass beneath him. It was almost pretty, like morning dew. 

Then he _screamed._ As loud as his lungs could manage. He screamed for help, for someone, _anyone_ to come and _make it stop._

The corpse of the rabbit he’d killed stiffened, blood drying around the exposed bone in its leg. Four wondered distantly if that was what was going to happen to him. At least he wouldn’t be alone in his fate. 

He sucked in as much air as he could and screamed again. By now his voice was raw and painful, ripping out his lungs and grinding past his throat and emerging hoarse and weak.

When Four fell silent it was only because his voice had vanished. His last hope of rescue had abandoned him too.

The sun had long since begun to set. Its evening light washed out the clearing he was trapped in, draining the color from the leaves and grass, bathing everything in orange. 

The others had to have realized he was missing by now, right? They had to be looking. They had to. They would never just leave him. 

Maybe they had switched worlds, and Four had been left behind. They’d scratch their heads and wonder what had happened to him, why he hadn’t come with. And all the while he would lay here, blood slowly pooling beneath his ankle, until death pulled him into oblivion.

What a horrible way to go. Four tried to scream again, but all that came out was a raspy breath. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to see his friends and family and he wanted to see new things and he wanted to see the world change as the years passed and he wanted to _live._

The first star twinkled into view above him. Weakly, Four smiled. At least the stars were here. He could die beneath what he loved.

His ensnared foot had gone completely numb, the only pain now was coming from his raw throat. Four watched, strangely divorced from the situation, as a bluebird hopped from branch to branch, singing a last song before its slumber. It was to its chirps and whistles that Four’s eyes slipped shut, and his senses faded away.

***

Four hadn’t expected to wake up again. But he did. Everything was dulled as he slowly was pulled into consciousness. The sounds of people. The light of the sun. The touch of the cotton blanket over his body.

Four did a mental backpedal. _Wait a minute. People…?_

His eyes snapped open fully. Hyrule was crouching over him, hands alight with magic. Four tried to say something, but all that escaped was a dry cough.

He couldn’t talk. Trapped. Trapped again. Trapped in silence. He’d always been the silent type. All of them were. But not around each other. Trapped trapped _trapped-_

“Woah there, calm down, Four. Breathe, okay? You’re safe. We’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

Four wanted to tell him that he needed to get _out._ But his tongue was tied and he didn’t know sign like the others did. He struggled violently in the grasp of the blanket. But it held him taught, just as the trap had. He would die. He was going to die.

“Gah! Someone hold him down, I’m almost done. Four- please, just a little longer-”

Hands pinned down his body. They might as well have been iron shackles.

Four’s vision blacked. In the mess of his panic, he had hyperventilated to the point of passing out.

***

Four hadn’t expected to wake up again. Wait, had he thought that before…?

He was lying in a bed. No sheets. Just a mattress. Experimentally, he tried to speak.

Still nothing.

But the air here was cool against his skin. It felt nice as it flowed down his torn throat.

Four breathed, relishing the simple joy of the act. And, as his vision focused. He spotted the others just outside, speaking with a stable master.

Things were going to be okay. He was okay.


	4. Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the headache that first woke him. The rest followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 4: Poisoning
> 
> CW: Alcohol, illness.

Sky was never really one for drinking. He was old enough by now, sure. But getting drunk was the sort of thing someone a bit more… extroverted might do. But, even if that was true, he could still enjoy one every once and awhile.

The lighting of the bar was tastefully dim. The people were quiet. It was, in all honesty, one of the chillest bars Sky had ever been to. Then again, he didn’t really have much to compare it with.

He was sitting around a table with Time, Twilight, Warriors, and Wild. Wild had only managed to get in by technicality, since he was actually the oldest out of all of them, but luckily he only seemed interested in having a nice conversation. Time was drinking milk, for some reason. Sky had decided not to question it. Twilight claimed he didn’t drink, so he was just having water. Out of all of them, only Warriors and himself were having anything alcoholic. He had since found out that the captain was a bit of a lightweight. 

“A-and then he said, get this… the biggest thing he ever fought was the moon! C-can you believe it?”

Time smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m still right here, Warriors.”

Warriors looked as if a great injustice had been thrust upon him. “Yeah?” he slurred. “‘Nd you still won’t explain whatchu m-meant! The moons’ still right there! In the sky!” Warriors flourished a finger in his direction. “Sky hassit!”

Sky said nothing. It was quite an entertaining show, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

“Y’know Sky…” Warriors hiccuped, then leaned heavily on Sky’s shoulder. Sky only rolled his eyes, amused. “Yer so nice… I don’t deserve you… I can’t believe you helped Time fight the moon! ‘M sure he really a-appreciated it… Right Time?”

“Sure thing, ‘War.”

Suddenly, Warriors leaned in close to Sky’s ear. “H-hey… you wanna hear a secret?”

Sky nodded, curious.

“They c-call him Time because- ‘cause he’s a time traveler! Isn’t that funny? N-not only that… he’s like a clock! He- he can time things down to the second! Dontcha wonder how h-he learned to do that?”

Time chuckled. “Alright Warriors, I think you’ve had enough. Why don’t we go meet up with the others?”

Sky stood. “I think he’s right. They’ll be wondering where we are.” he stretched, joints cracking. “Besides, my drink tastes weird.”

Warriors gasped. “Maybe s-someone put… uh, rat poison in it! Wouldn’t that be… urhg…”

The three of them carried Warriors out of the bar before he managed to make a scene. The captain was asleep on the bed of the room they’d rented before he even took off his boots.

Wind was sulking in a corner, still upset that they hadn’t let him come along. The rest of their group was out exploring the town, trying to get in some much-needed relaxation before the sun went down.

But Sky was tired, and still a touch buzzed from the bar. He decided to get some extra shut-eye before they set off the next morning.

***

A violent headache pulled Sky out of sleep. He hissed, massaging a hand against his forehead. His mouth felt like a desert, and his lips cracked and split each time he moved his mouth. Fatigue told him to just stay in bed, but the sickly heat radiating from his body told him to get _out._

Sky tore off the sheets, suddenly very glad that his bed was a twin. As he stood, vertigo pounded through his already throbbing head. His vision whited, and he nearly toppled over. It cleared in a few seconds, but he didn’t feel much better. His heart was beating much too fast. His lungs were breathing much too slow. A slow knot of pain began forming deep in his stomach, slowly growing until it was more agonizing than his head.

Sky stumbled to the washroom, each second afraid that he might just pass out. When he finally reached the linoleum-tiled room, he was nearly on his knees.

The first hero stared into the grubby mirror, not quite recognizing what he saw. Deep lines hung under his eyes, and his pupils were unnaturally pin-prick sized. It looked as if it should hurt, but weirdly it didn’t.

In a sudden burst of discomfort, Sky’s skin prickled. Every point of contact was nearly agonizing. He wheeled backwards, slamming his head into the walls of the washroom. Something cracked. The wall, luckily, and not his skull.

In the panic and the pain of the sudden outburst Sky wretched. His stomach struggled violently to purge itself of anything and everything, and when it was done he just kept gagging, throat clutching tighter and tighter until he could hardly breathe.

He felt like he might just die. Was this death? Was this what it felt like to die?

Footsteps clacked against the wooden floor in the hall. Someone was coming. Sky hardly cared. His world had shrunk down to himself and the washroom. Everything else might as well not have existed at all.

“Sky? Is that you?”

He said nothing. He was huddled in the corner, shivering violently. Absurdly, Sky was reminded of Wind.

“Woah, are you okay?”

Sky was not okay. To prove his point, he promptly feinted. Unfortunately, this only lasted for a few seconds. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged across the floor by his arms. Sky didn’t struggle. His limbs felt like jelly and everything pulsed with a dull pain and even if they didn’t he would not have objected to being carried right then. 

He blacked out again. He didn’t know for how long, but maybe a minute or two. When he awoke he was lying on the floor somewhere, refreshingly damp washcloths being cast over his clammy body. Sky tried to speak, but his lips couldn’t seem to form the words right. Where even was he? Who were these people…?

***

Sky came to when the sun had begun to set again. He didn’t feel a whole lot better, but the pain in his head and stomach had died down, and he could think properly now.

“You were poisoned,” a voice said. His head was still too muddled to discern who. “At the bar. Likely not on purpose, but we should still get moving soon. Rest up, Sky. We leave at dawn.”

Sky breathed. In, and out. Like the ocean. Like the clouds.

He drifted back into sleep.


	5. Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They bound his maw and legs, the light glancing viciously against the edge of the scimitar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 5: Separated
> 
> CW: Blood, torture.

Twilight swung his boomerang in a wide arc, throwing a group of Lizalfos off their feet. He lunged, plunging the tip of his sword into the neck of the closest. It gurgled, spewing bright red blood into the nearby river. Then he spun, slicing into the torso of the Lizalfos that had been approaching him from behind. It toppled, revealing two more behind it. 

Twilight pulled out his ball and chain, spinning it around and around. The Lizalfos backed away quickly, but not quickly enough. Teeth bared in a snarl, he smashed the spiked ball into the twin monsters. A sickening crunch sounded as it found its target, and they were still.

He ran, ducking beneath swinging blades and flaming arrows. Quickly, he hid behind the ruins of a brick wall. Grasping a hand at the shadow crystal dangling from his neck, he felt his body twist and morph into his wolf form.

Digging his claws deep into the loose earth, Twilight dashed towards the nearest monster. A Moblin, holding a bone-reinforced club. It swung the weapon downwards, showering Twilight in a rain of dirt and rock. As the Moblin attempted to pull it out of the earth, Twilight leaped atop its hunched back. He snapped his teeth around the bony neck of the monster, ripping through its thick flesh until he felt his fangs grind against bone. Twilight pushed off its back, sending it falling to the earth.

He stared around frantically, searching for the next target. Though it looked to him the rest of the Links had it under control. He prepared to shift back to his human form.

Just as the shadow magic began building around his body, Twilight jerked backwards. Something was tugging at the shackle wrapped around his paw. It dragged him through the blood-soaked earth, his claws leaving twin trails through the muck. He barked, trying to get the other’s attention. 

But no one heard. They were all caught in the heat of battle, too focused to notice his struggle.

And struggle he did. He kicked out his hind legs again and again, scratching at the earth behind him. He dug his teeth into whatever hold he could find, trying to rip himself free of his assailant. But its grip was iron around the shackle, and none of his attempts stalled it in any way.

Though he howled and barked for the others, eventually the clangs of their swords drifted out of earshot. He had tried to get a good look at whatever was dragging him, but in this form he couldn’t lift his neck enough to see anything more than its legs. Growling, he went slack. Maybe he could surprise it enough to get free.

Eventually, the clouded sky was covered by a layer of foliage. It was a rather pretty forest, if he would have bothered to look. But by now the fur on his stomach was soaked through, adding immense discomfort to his growing list of problems.

At last, his assailant halted. Twilight gathered his strength, preparing to make a run for it. But something stopped him. A clanging sound, and a jangling motion from the shackle. Twilight opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them. Dread settled in his stomach at what he saw.

The monster was hammering a peg through the chain dangling from his shackle. It buried it deep into the earth. And when it was done, it shambled away.

Twilight pulled at the chain experimentally, but even he could tell it was pointless.

He was trapped.

The monster came back not five minutes later, three more of its kind trailing behind it. They were not like anything Twilight had ever seen, though it vaguely reminded him of the mutated monsters from the Twilight Realm. He ran his tongue across his teeth nervously.

One of them approached him slowly. He growled threateningly, but it didn’t seem to have any effect.

It reached a long, bony finger towards his face. Twilight snapped at it as soon as it was close enough. The monster grunted, lifting the rope that had been in its other hand. 

Twilight struggled violently, biting and clawing at the beasts. But it was no good. His maw was bound shut by thick rope, and his paws tied together by the ankle. He stopped his struggle, realizing that it was hopeless. He watched the drool drip from the tusks of the monsters. They poked and prodded at him, piercing his skin with their serrated claws. It hurt, but it was nothing Twilight hadn’t been through before.

That was until one of the beasts pulled out a scimitar from behind a tree. Twilight tried to hold back a whine of fear, but it escaped him anyways.

The thing was wickedly sharp. It looked like it could cut through the thickest of muscle. The monsters argued between themselves at who got to hold it. Seeing his chance, Twilight tried everything he could to free himself.

But it was no use. The biggest of the four had claimed the scimitar, and was approaching him with a cruel light in its eyes. Twilight shut his own tight, not wanting to watch what was about to occur.

Something cold lanced across his shoulder, a splitting pain following in its wake. He clenched his teeth tight, but he refused to give the beasts the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

A rough hand pulled at his ear, holding it taught. The monster punctured the sensitive skin again and again, then moved to his other ear, flaying his flesh until its sick satisfaction was quenched.

The beast forced his eyelids open, making him watch as he carved the blade across the white fur on his forehead. It felt like ice cutting through his skin, grating against muscle and tendon. A fierce agony always following just a second behind.

Blood dripped into his eyes, briefly blinding him. When he was able to see again, he noticed the bored look in the monster’s eyes. A small hope alighted inside him that they might just… leave.

But he was not so lucky. The one carrying the scimitar trundled off, but the other three hadn’t had their share. They dragged their claws across his flesh, the serrated ends making it feel as if he was being cut thrice over. The pain was hot as daggers compared to the ice of the scimitar. Still, he was silent, though he couldn’t stop the trembling that wracked his body. His breath was weak, and his vision swam. By the time the other three monsters left, every part of him was coated in criss-crossing cuts. Some very shallow, others much deeper. One had scraped across bone. 

All of it hurt. It was a mosaic of agony, different colors of pain pulsing and flashing through his nerves. 

The others found him about an hour later. He couldn’t say anything in his wolf form, but he hardly needed to. The slick blood clotting on his fur was worth a thousand words.

They unbound him, carrying him back to camp. Exhaustion made Twilight’s bones feel like lead. But the strong arms of Time holding him up made the constant agony seem somewhat distant. Even manageable, if he wanted to go for a stretch.

They didn’t have much in the way of potions left, but there was enough to heal the worst of his injuries. The nicks in his ear would never be able to be healed, though. It’d be a lovely reminder of the torture he had gone through. They remained in his human form, too. Twilight couldn’t wear an earring in his right ear anymore, though the other heroes had said that the single one didn’t look half bad.

It didn’t, really, he thought, staring into the mirror. It made him look more stylish than he’d ever tried to be.

Warriors had approved, and Twilight had managed to laugh along at the joke. 

He didn’t know why, but he kept the other earring, tucked safely at the bottom of his pack.


	6. Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was so, so cold. A deeper cold then he had ever felt before, Then suddenly, it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 6: Drowning
> 
> CW: Drowning.

Legend used to like the ocean. He still did, in a way. But now it just brought back… unpleasant memories. 

Good thing they were in the middle of Twilight’s Hyrule, battling through a bitter snowstorm, far from any warm, temperate oceans. 

Legend huffed into the scarf wrapped around his face. Lucky them.

The snow piled up nearly to his knees, each step becoming a wet, freezing struggle. Hidden dips and rabbit holes made navigation treacherous. No one spoke. Being dropped in the middle of a freezing wasteland could do that to you.

But Legend trudged on, the thought of a nice, warm stay at Twilight’s Zora’s domain fueling him.

They reached the peak of a hill. It didn’t do them much good, though, as their visibility in the storm was still pretty much nill. 

In silent agreement they began to make their way towards the bottom. The slope was steep, and though Legend’s boots were great for speed, they weren’t much for traction. He felt himself began to slip more than once, and each time his heart skipped a beat or two.

But, in the end, they made it to the foot of the hill without issue. Legend breathed a sigh of relief. When they’d switched he had been a little worried about the shorter of their group, but it seemed like they were doing alright with being carried. That was at least something they had going for them.

They continued carving their way through the snow, breath clouded and arms wrapped around each other.

“Careful, everyone,” Twilight said, breaking the silence. “If I remember correctly there’s a river around here. Walk carefully.”

Legend nodded half-heartedly. It was difficult to be concerned about much when it was already so damn _cold._

He made it through another two exhausting steps before having to stop for a moment. The chill was sinking into his bones, making his muscles stiff and taught. He couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen either. Legend rested gloved hands on his knees, breathing deep.

In, and out. In, and out.

A horrible crack ricocheted out from beneath his feet, sending a bolt of adrenaline pumping through his veins. But he couldn’t move fast enough. The ground beneath him shattered.

Legend seemed to experience it all in slow motion. First, the freezing water filled his already wet boots, turning his feet numb in seconds. Next, it engulfed his legs, making his winter gear sodden and heavy, dragging him down even further. Then, it swallowed his arms and torso, sending shocks of cold cold _cold_ through every piece of his body. Legend’s skin and flesh and bone and muscle and nerve and organs all alight with shooting, frigid ice. 

Lastly, it submerged his head. Legend had tried to suck in a last gulp of air, but all his lungs found was more ice-laden water. It filled every dip and twist of him. The space between his bones, his heart and veins. It swallowed up his thoughts with flashes of golden-white lightning and foaming waves and breaking, snapping wood.

He couldn’t move. It had frozen him through, body and mind. Legend watched with a detached interest as the light peeking through the ice grew dimmer and dimmer. 

His back struck the bottom of the river, grit and dirt mushrooming out around him. The gentle flow of the water pulled him along. It was almost… soothing.

Suddenly, Legend didn’t feel so cold anymore. It was like a new flame had begun to burn inside him, melting away the ice that trapped him. It felt so good. He smiled hazily, water slipping in through the gaps between his teeth. Legend didn’t care though. He was deeply fascinated by the way his arms moved in the water- like there was no gravity. Imagine that!

He closed his eyes, letting the floating sensation wash over him. He didn’t notice as arms wrapped around his own, dragging him tooth and nail out of the frigid river water. He didn’t feel it as the knifepoint edges of the fractured ice scraped against his back, tearing through the fabric of his clothes. He didn’t see the fire being lit or the blankets being cast over his body. He didn’t hear the screams and cries for help. In his mind’s eye he was resting on the beach, the southern sun drying his clothes, salt slowly crusting around his eyes. In the dream, a young woman with a hibiscus tucked behind her ear shook him awake. And through the glare of the cloudless day and the shrieks of the seagulls she carried him to her house, where he rested in her bed under her watch. 

But as instruments began to join the symphony, the grass looked less green, the water was not so clear, and the wind that always seemed to flutter her dress stilled.

By the time he realized what he’d done it was too late. It had never been real and it never would be.

Would he have stayed if he’d known? Would he?

Legend woke up.

The ground beneath him was hard, though slightly softened by layers of frayed blankets. Legend watched as the light of the fire before him flickered against intricately carved pillars. It was hot, nearly too hot, but he didn't really mind.

The other Links were standing off to the side, speaking with a pair of masked Zora. As they slowly began to realize he was awake, that he was okay, they gathered around where he laid. Food and hot tea was offered. More blankets. Kind words and reassurances. 

“What would we do without you?”

“I can’t even imagine us without you.”’

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Legend’s mind was still too fogged to say anything. He was busy thinking, thinking, thinking. But as the other Links cared for him, told him he’d be fine, told him they _loved_ him, no less, he sort of realized…

_I wouldn’t trade this for anything._


	7. Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was trapped in the present. What was he doing? Was he even alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Descriptions of panic attacks, blood, broken bones, dissociation.

Wild adjusted his stance, leaves showering from the branch he was perched upon. He nocked an arrow, stretching back the string until it was taught. He aimed carefully, not wanting to wake any of the slumbering monsters with a missed shot.

Wild released the string. The arrow hit the bullseye, puncturing the Bokoblin’s eye and killing it instantly. Its body dissolved without a sound. Wild allowed himself a smile.

_Revali would be so proud,_ he thought sarcastically.

His mind wandered as he shot down the rest of the Bokoblins. Revali had been an… interesting person, from what he could remember. As far as Wild knew, the Rito didn’t want anyone to know he could feel anything other than snide accomplishment. Which, admittedly, was a weird thing to want. But who was he to judge? He barely knew the guy.

Wild shimmied down the tree, his task complete. It bothered him more than he let on that he knew so little about the Champions. Time might understand, in a way. But then again, he wasn’t really the chatty type. And he hadn’t lost his memories. And it had only been seven years for him.

Huffing to himself, Wild gathered up the teeth and horns the Bokoblins had left behind.

Left behind, left behind. He’d always been the one left behind, hadn’t he? Wild didn’t belong in this time anymore then the other Links did. He was a relic, and he couldn’t even get that right. He’d always tried to convince himself that he was grateful for another chance. But part of him still wished he’d just been… 

Left behind.

The teeth and horns felt like ice in his hands. Daruk had hated ice. How did he know that? Lucky guess? Inference? Wild wasn’t sure. Mipha had never seemed very sure of herself either. Always going back on herself, trying to know what was best to say. Wild wished he had known what to say to Zelda. At least she had Urbosa, before he let her die.

There wasn’t anything he could’ve done, right? They hadn’t known Ganon was able to possess things until it was too late. The guardians had terrified him. They still did, really. He’d just grown numb to it.

Wild recalled the first time he’d seen one after he’d woken up. It had been dead, but that didn’t make any difference. He had hid, heart pounding and hands trembling, beneath a crumbling wall. He hadn’t understood what was happening. Why he was so upset, so _scared._

He had sat there until the old man had found him.

...Was the king a good person?

“Wild?”

Did he really know enough to tell? His feelings on the matter were a bit conflicted.

“Hey, earth to Wild?”

People could be gray, he supposed. But still.

_”Wild!”_

Pain shot through his shoulder, but a sudden rush of adrenaline numbed it. Wild left the arrow in his shoulder, knowing it would keep the blood in. Then he spun around, drawing his own bow faster than a blink. Nock. Draw. Shoot. 

In seconds the straggling Bokoblin was dead. The energy flooding through his nerves subsided, making room for the throbbing pain of the arrow stuck in his shoulder. Boots crunched on the leaves behind him. Legend was there, concern etched in the lines of his face.

“...C’mon, let's get you back to camp. Hyrule’ll patch you up,” he said, somewhat dejectedly.

They walked for a while, the stars glimmering through the leaf canopy. The moon draped its leaves in a blanket of silver-white light. Rather pretty, in retrospect, but Wild was focused on other things.

His shoulder hurt, yeah, but it was just an arrow. The important thing was that he had been distracted, caught up in the memories bubbling through his mind. What if that happened in battle? What would he do? What _could_ he do? Someone would get hurt because of him. Again.

It wasn’t just an arrow wound. It actually hurt a lot, like a burning knife caught in his flesh, shifting and cutting and grinding as he walked. But he would live. He’d _always_ live. Mipha had made sure of that. The others didn’t get that chance. Wild would always have to be the fodder, the expendable one, no matter what they said.

Legend nudged him gently. “Hey man, you good? You look a little… ah, troubled.”

“I’m okay,” Wild murmured. “It just hurts a bit.”

Legend bit his lip, but said nothing.

Hyrule was a bit surprised when Wild had described how he’d been injured.

“It’s not like you to get so distracted,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t need to like… talk?”

Wild was silent. Silent, silent. Always silent. He could take care of himself. It wasn’t their problem.

It happened again when they were being ambushed.

It was night. Stal monsters had come tearing through the earth, grit and severed tree roots raining from their bleached white bones. Wild had just stood there, unable to move, as the others readied their weapons. He was still and yet he was fleeing for his life. Tunic clean yet drenched in mud. Skin dry yet wet with tears. His, hers, it didn’t matter. What did he want? Who was he, really?

Wild barely felt the club that slammed against his knee, bruising the muscle instantly and likely cracking his bone. It was as if he was 100 years in the past again. Feeling a different kind of pain, perhaps. 

The monsters were dead. Were they ever alive, though? Was _he?_ What if he was a different person now? What if Link was dead?

Voices. Skin against his skin. Wild was lagging behind his own body, like a spirit. Specter. Ghost. Like someone who wasn’t alive. 

Healing magic wiping away the pain he hadn’t even realized was there. Were the rest hurt? Had he gotten them hurt? Was he selfish to think he could protect them?

Wild’s mind was disjointed, one thought not quite flowing into the next. It was images. Feelings. Touch and scent and taste. Cerulean. Burning pink. White hot gold. All gone, gone, gone.

At some point he fell asleep, though his mind barely registered the difference. Dreams of falling. Dreams of being forgotten. Dreams of forgetting. Dreams of fear, fear, fear.

Wild was snapped back to reality so violently it hurt. Sky, shaking him awake. Hyrule, offering him food. Time, with kind words and reassurances. Twilight, sitting next to him the whole time. Constant. Always there, there, there.

Wild told Twilight everything. All his walls had broken down, and there was nothing holding back the flood anymore.

It hurt, but it felt good. And by the end, he was smiling again.

He was here. He was alive.


	8. Warriors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is your fault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 8: Blame
> 
> CW: Blood, mentions of drowning, minor character death.

Warriors huffed as he made the final steps up the hill. While the journey there had been exhausting, the view was well worth it. Billowing green hills bursting with trees rolled into the distance, the glowing tip of Death Mountains looming on the horizon. A sapphire blue lake sat at the base of the hillock, a clean fishing village squatting in its center.

Warriors took a seat on the still-damp wheat grass, admiring the land that stretched away beneath the cloud streaked sky. While the damage Ganon had inflicted on Wild's Hyrule had yet to be buried by time, the people were already in the process of raising a new life from the ruins.

He squinted past the sun-flecked waters of the lake, taking in the details of the fishing village. It was raised above the water by algae crusted stakes. Docks and boardwalks jutted out from the edges, boats coming in and out baring their cargo. It was all rather quaint, compared to the villages Warriors' Hyrule housed.

The way the water moved was nearly hypnotizing. Warriors found himself lost in the push and flow, eyes becoming unfocused.

A dark shadow carved through the peace. Then two. Then three. He blinked, frowning slightly. As more figures cut through the water, Warriors began to worry. 

As swiftly as he was able, Warriors dashed down the hill. He nearly tripped over his own feet more than once, but managed to make it unscathed.

There was no way to get to the village without going through the water, so Warriors simply had to subject himself to the less-then-warm liquid. But he didn't hesitate. This was too important.

It was nearly too late when he finally dragged himself out of the lake, clothes sodden and heavy. Around a dozen Lizalfos with wickedly serrated boomerangs were circling the villagers, jeering and cackling as they slashed away.

Warriors took no time to dry off. He ripped his sword from its scabbard and leaped into the gray.

He managed to take down two Lizalfos before the beasts realized what was happening. They twirled and twisted around, ragged screeches filling the air.

The rest of the world fell away, leaving only himself and the monsters.

Dodge. Thrust. Backflip. His heart beat to the rythme of the battle. Move on the downbeat. Strike on the up. Again and again until three more Lizalfos had fallen.

Some were beginning to flee by now. Warriors had dealt with herds of monsters ten times as big as this, and it showed.

But Warriors had also never fought on a thin, creaky boardwalk before. The lack of space to move around had found him with a jagged slice across his forehead, twin claw marks upon his neck, and an agonizing cut through the tendons on his ankle.

But he stumbled through, cutting down for after for, until their viscous blood turned the water pink. And as he swung his sword through the neck of the last scale-clad beast, his energy seemed to evaporate. Warriors fell to his knees.

Blood dripped into his eye. Blood soaked his collar. Blood trickled into his boot. But the village was safe. He had saved them.

Cries broke through the ringing in his ears. But they were not those of joy or relief. They were wrenching ones that seemed so viscerally wrong coming out of a Hylian. Warriors blinked the blood from his eye, forcing himself to shivering feet. Using his sword as a cane, he dragged himself past the cluster of shell-shocked people. 

A body laid in the center of the ragged circle. A red stain was slowly expanding out from a gash across their chest.

They were dead. Undeniably so. Warriors bit his lip. Death was ultimately a likely scenerio when you served, so much so that you gradually grew numb to it. But these people had likely never seen a Hylian body before.

Just as suddenly as they had began, the cries stopped. So slowly that Warriors didn't even notice at first, the people's eyes began to turn to him.

"This is your fault," one of them growled. Warriors only blinked, shocked. "You were so busy bein' the hero that ya didn't care about one little life, didja?"

Anger began to flash in the villager's eyes. They changed accusations at him, all mixing together in a cacophony of blame that Warriors did _not_ have the mental capacity to deal with.

So he ran. Or swam, rather.

It was hard, nearly impossible with the injuries. But Warriors got across with only a few viscerally terrifying moments of near-drowning.

He made it to camp. Barely.

The rest of the Links patched him up. Bandages. Potions. Healing magic. The ritz.

...It wasn't his fault, right? Those people had been caught up in their grief. They hadn't been thinking rationally. It wasn't their fault and it wasn't his fault and he was _fine._

They didn't let him take first watch, but Warriors couldn't sleep regardless. Anything was better then just wallowing in his own emotions, though. So he pulled himself from his bedroll and stepped carefully over to where Sky was keeping watch. The first hero glanced at him kindly, patting the grass next to where he sat.

They stayed like that for awhile, just staring up at the stars. But eventually, Sky spoke.

"Something on your mind?" he prompted.

Warriors nodded, but didn't speak. Sky waited patiently. 

The scarved hero breathed, hesitating before letting the words pour out.

"Back at the village, someone was killed by a Lizalfos. I was so focused on the fight that I didn't even notice. But, uh... afterwards, they said it was my fault. I know it wasn't, but I still... I dunno. Feel bad?"

Sky fiddled with a blade of grass, thinking. 

"People act very differently when grieving. But even if they weren't, they were just plain wrong. Regardless of who lived or died, they should be grateful that you at least tried to help, no matter the end result."

Warriors released the breath he wasn't even aware he was holding.

"Thank you, Sky. That means a lot."

They sat together until Sky's shift was over, watching the distant stars twinkle like sunlight over water.


	9. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sky was alight with fire, and the ground trembled and shivered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 9: Self-inflicted
> 
> CW: Self-harm, post-traumatic stress, blood.

Blood seeped from between the chinks in Time’s armor. He pressed a palm against it, trying to keep the deep red liquid inside. But it beaded out from his fingers, slipping down his knuckles in thin red rivulets. Time grit his teeth, pushing past the throbbing pain in his gut.

He stood, ripping his claymore from the earth. Stumbling backward, he used the blade to steady himself. They had been ambushed while walking through the misty woods. Wolfos, ribs jutting and bare, had torn through the fog, clawing and slashing. It wasn’t a difficult fight, but Time hadn’t been fast enough to step aside when the monsters had burst from the undergrowth. The starving beasts’ needle point claws had slipped in between the cracks in his armor, slicing open his stomach. 

Time was beginning to become woozy, his thoughts slipping out his chest along with the sticky red blood. In his last moments of awareness, he surveyed the rest of the Links. They were all alive. All standing. 

He fell to his knees, claymore skidding away into the grass.

***

Time’s body felt lighter when he woke. Someone had stripped his armor, letting the cotton blankets rest gently against his skin. Curiously, he inspected the gash on his stomach. It had scarred slightly, but was otherwise healed. Time smiled gently at the kindness of the other Links.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing his steadiness. Time felt pretty good, actually, so he wasn’t that worried. Additionally, there were voices coming from the other side of the door, assumedly the other heroes.

The room was vaguely familiar. Something from years past that hadn’t quite formed into a memory. Time frowned, trying to pin it down. But the ticking of the wall clock kept latching onto his thoughts. Regardless, he felt fine physically. So he made his way to the door and pulled it open. 

Twilight noticed him first. The Ordonian hero padded over to his side, murmuring a gentle greeting. The others came next, asking if he was okay, how he was doing. Time responded calmly that he felt fine, and was quite good, thanks.

But as the bodies cleared, and the hall came into sight, Time felt his heart stop.

Masks donned the walls. Colored clocks swung and ticked from the walls. Stairs led down to the right, the quiet sounds of bubbling water coming from below.

He turned and slammed the door, a hand over his mouth. Time felt sick. This was a dream. He was dreaming. This _wasn’t. Real._

There was concerned muttering from the other side of the door. Time barely heard it. The ocarina had somehow found its way into his hands. He was back in time. Three days. He had three days. His finger tapped against his knee. One for every second. 72 hours. 4320 minutes. 259200 seconds. 259199 seconds. 259198 seconds.

The door opened. It was Anju. It was Kafei. It was Twilight.

His finger kept tapping.

“Time?” Twilight questioned. “Uh, are you okay…?”

No. The world was ending. No one was okay.

“Of course,” he said. “My injury just flared up. I feel alright now.”

Twilight frowned, averting his eyes. “...Are you sure? You looked kind of scared.”

Time smiled. The scar tissue across his eye twisted.

“I’m sure.”

He had to go out into town with them. Clocktown was just the same as he had remembered, minus the party decorations. The place felt somehow emptier without them.

There were new people, too. Young children, teenagers, new adults. Some familiar faces, now lined with age. They stared at him, at the tattoos lining his face. 

They bought new potions. The witch asked if she had seen him before. He told her no.

The group was lounging in the southern part of town. Time was staring at the double doors to the clock tower. He could make a run for it, force his way through the heavy iron barriers that had blocked his way back to Hyrule.

Time wanted to see Malon. She had helped him work through all this years ago, but now it hurt like it was fresh. Now, his heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Now, his mind was counting down the seconds, the ghosts of the routines he had memorized cutting through his vision.

He knew the others were worried. He knew they were talking behind his back. He knew because he’d lived through it a hundred times. The ocarina was slick in his hands. The moon glowed red above. Sweat trickled down his neck.

On the second day, Time couldn’t stop hearing the rain pounding against the roof of the inn. He had locked himself in the knife room, convinced that there were rumbles vibrating through the floor.

The others knocked. He did not let them in.

On the third day, he ran away. Hid himself in the maze of the lost woods, heart stuck in his throat. The earth was trembling, setting his teeth on edge.

The bells rung. His finger tap-tap-tapped. Final hours. 

_”Hurry, let's go back! The Song of Time, the Song of Time!”_

Time curled in on himself, fingernails digging into the flesh on his face. He clawed at the markings, trying to rip them off with his bare hands. Blood smeared across his cheeks and crusted under his nails.

It hurt. He dug harder, his heartbeat keeping time while his fingers were busy.

The others found him in the latter half of the last hour. Four came into sight first, desperately searching around, before his multi-colored eyes fell on Time. 

He called the others over once he saw the blood.

“What did you do?” Twilight hissed, shock alight in his eyes. Time did not respond. He didn’t have the breath.

He wouldn’t let anyone touch him, much less heal him. He was lost in a different timeline, where the skies were tinged orange and the earth shuddered and trembled.

They stayed with him until the final hours had passed, and the tears had crusted on his cheeks. Together, they walked back to the inn.

“Promise me you won't do that to yourself again, okay?”

Twilight was keeping him company. The Ordonian was sitting against the wall, while he laid in bed.

Time took a deep breath to compose himself. He would have to explain everything. The fear, the anxiety, the death in every corner. Reliving the same nightmare month after month until he finally got it right.

But Twilight stopped him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You don’t have to tell me what this place is, or what happened to you. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. We can figure everything else out some other time.”

Time just stared, his mind taking a moment to compute the statement. Eventually, though, a small smile alighted on his face.

“I promise,” he said.

They switched worlds the next day. Time opened his eye to see the ranch in the distance. His ranch.

He fell into Malon’s arms, tears streaming from his eyes. It wasn’t healed again, it wasn’t fixed- but for now, it was okay.


	10. Ravio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't water dripping from the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 10: Fatal injury
> 
> CW: Blood

“Okay, listen… so I’ve got a guest staying at my house- well, not really a guest. But a person. Who’s living with me right now. So, uh… just be nice, or whatever.”

The rest of the Links shot suspicious glances at one another. Legend wasn’t really the ‘living with people’ type, so they were all rather intrigued to see who was so charismatic that _Legend_ of all people would let them live with him.

They stopped in front of the front stairs. Legend stepped up and threw open the door, his face all scrunched up like he was bracing himself.

It was a bit anticlimactic.

“Oh…” he breathed, sounding disappointed. “I guess he’s not home then.”

They settled down happily enough, except for Legend- who was being uncharacteristically mopey. They tried to get him up and going again, complimenting how unusually clean his house was- but the pink-haired hero just kept shooting worried glances at the door. But the night was as silent as ever. 

Soon enough, they had all snuggled into their bedrolls, next to the pleasantly warm coals of the dying fire. It would’ve been the best sleep they’d had in days, had it not been for one thing.

“Legend, stop _moving!_ You’re gonna keep us up all night!” Wind hissed.

He growled deep in his throat. “Don’t tell me what to do! This is R- this is my house!”

“Who cares whose house it is! I want to _sleep!_ ”

Wild snarled. “Will you two shut up? Some people are _actually_ trying to sleep!”

In the space between their words, a soft _plip-plip-plip_ cut through the tension like a knife. Four shifted out of his bedroll, holding up his hand.

“Leg… your house doesn’t have a leak, does it?”

Legend scoffed. “Not as far as I know, unless that idiot managed to break something.”

The tension returned in a tsunami.

“Legend…” Four whispered, voice trembling. “I don’t think this is water.”

***

Ravio adjusted the posing of one of Link’s armor stands. When his favorite hero got back from wherever he was off to, he’d be so pleased at how clean their house was! He released his joy with a laugh and a beaming smile- practice for when Link returned!

It had been rather lonely without him around. But Ravio knew how unhappy he was being tied down to one place. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t miss his best friend!

He pulled a feather duster from the recesses of his cloak and made some final touches on Link’s upstairs hoard. He’d always hated it when Ravio called it that, vehemently claiming that _no,_ he was not in fact a _hoarder._ But he knew the truth.

...Of course, he had received one or two letters from Link, which he kept safely tucked away- but it just wasn't the same as the real deal. 

His dusting became a little sad.

Then, the floorboards creaked.

Ravio started, a box of rings crashing to the floor. He’d had training as a guard, but that had been years and years ago! Oh, what would he do, what would he do? There were no windows in this room, and the door was the only exit. He’d just have to hide.

And hide he did, just behind a large chest of spare clothes. Ravio curled into a ball, keeping his eyes shut tight and his breathing soft.

The door squealed as it opened. Fear pounded through his veins. Heavy footsteps plodded along the carpet. Hands shuffled through the various bits and bobs. Goddess… Link would be furious.

Ravio risked peeking out from the side of the chest. The woman was tall, with a thick-set jaw and a heavy build. She looked like she could crush coconuts with her hands.

Right now, she was inspecting a dusty bracelet… _his_ bracelet. The one he had given to Link. The one he had forgotten last time he had been there.

The lady shrugged, and pocketed it.

It was their bracelet. Both of theirs, signifying their friendship and their bond. Anger iced over the fear. Ravio grabbed the closest weapon he could see- a rather sharp bush sword- and stood. The woman turned, a fire in her eyes.

Ravio didn’t hesitate. At least he could look back and be proud of that.

Releasing an enraged yell, he swung down the blade with all the strength he had. She raised her forearm, an almost bored look crossing her face.

The sword sunk barely a centimeter into the thick leather of her gauntlets. 

After that, Ravio only had a second for his fear to melt straight through the anger before he felt the blade sink into his chest.

***

Legend dashed up the stairs, his boots propelling him forward. Skidding around a corner, he threw open door after door full of his stupid garbage. 

_Where is he? Where. Is. He?_

Finally, he came to the one at the end of the hallway. It was already slightly ajar.

Legend felt premonition settle in his throat.

Slowly, he eased it open. A sharp squeal that seemed much too loud escaped the unoiled hinges.

_There._ Lying in the middle of the carpet. Him. Ravio. 

...Wait… wasn’t his cloak supposed to be purple?

***

_”Hyrule!_

Legend’s cry echoed down the stairs, jolting the Links out of their rumination. It was so viscerally unlike Legend- dripping thick and dark with a fear that made dread settle in their stomachs.

Hyrule made it up the stairs in record time.

***

Tears threatened to overflow from his eyes, but Legend didn’t let them. Not until he knew Ravio would live. Not until he stopped… _bleeding._

They gave him the last of their potions. Wrapped bandages around his chest until he looked like a mummy. Hyrule did his best as well, but the merchant was still barely breathing. 

Legend watched him through the rest of the night. He didn’t sleep a wink.

***

Ravio felt weirdly heavy when he awoke. He also felt generally weird. And generally painful. And his chest felt kind of hot. And there was a person sitting on the bed beside him…?

It was Link. His hero had gotten a new dye job. It looked gorgeous on him, especially when he was sleeping so peacefully. All the scowl lines on his face just… faded away.

Ravio didn’t wake him. It looked like Link had already done enough, judging by the surplus of bandages wrapped around him. He could hardly move, for Hylia’s sake-

But he didn’t feel bad, per say. Link was here. He wasn’t alone. 

Yeah, maybe he was hurt. Maybe they were both a little hurt, in their own ways. But they were okay. He was hurt, Link was hurt- but they were okay.

They’d be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one! Thank you everyone so much for reading!


End file.
